Bobby and Mic stood outside the Starling's Gearshift, their newfound treasures spread before them. The dilapidated warehouse creaked and groaned around them, its corrugated metal walls rusted and pockmarked with age.

Weak light seeped through gaps in the roof, casting irregular patterns on the dusty concrete floor. The air was heavy with the smell of damp and decay, mingled with the sharp tang of machine oil.

The Starling's Gearshift dominated the limited space, its hull scarred and pitted. Around it, Mic had set up a cramped work area, tools and spare parts cluttering every available surface. The ship's presence made the warehouse feel even smaller, leaving just enough room for them to manoeuvre around it.

Through a cracked window, Bobby caught glimpses of the ruined London skyline. Crumbling towers loomed in the distance, a stark reminder of the world outside their temporary haven. Occasionally, an otherworldly screech or rumble would penetrate the relative quiet, a chilling reminder of the dangers that lurked beyond their shelter.

The hover bike gleamed in the dim light, its sleek lines marred by scorch marks and dents from their harrowing escape. Bobby ran his hand along its frame, feeling the unfamiliar alien alloy beneath his fingers.

"Well, it's seen better days," he muttered, eyeing a nasty gash in the side panel.

Mic scurried around the bike, his eyes wide with excitement. "Oh, but it's still quite marvellous, isn't it? The propulsion system alone is... well, um, needs some work but, still, it’s all upgradeable."

Bobby nodded, his attention shifting to the exoskeleton suit lying in pieces on the ground. He frowned, realising it looked far less impressive than he'd initially thought.

"Mic, what's the deal with this? It looks... incomplete."

The gnome paused in his examination of the hover bike and turned to the exoskeleton. "Ah, yes. Well, you see, it's not complete. It's more of a, um, a skeleton, if you will."

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "A skeleton?"

"Yes, yes!" Mic's hands waved as he explained. "It's the framework for power armour. Quite ingenious, really. You see, this is just the base structure. It needs additional components to become fully functional power armour."

Bobby knelt down, examining the pieces more closely. Now that Mic mentioned it, he could see how it might form a basic frame for something more substantial.

"So, what kind of additional parts are we talking about?" he asked.

Mic scratched his head, his brow furrowing in thought. "Oh, quite a few, I'm afraid. Armour plating, of course. Power cells, servos, neural interface components... It's quite a complex system when fully assembled."

Bobby sighed, realising their prize wasn't as immediately useful as he'd hoped. "Any chance we can find these parts somewhere?"

Mic's eyes lit up. "Oh, um, well no, not easily. At least at first. But, errr, when we find a system shop, you can buy what you need there."

Bobby frowned, his brow furrowing as he considered the implications of Mic's words. "If I have enough money, you mean," he said, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. The idea of needing currency in this strange new world hadn't even crossed his mind until now.

Mic nodded vigorously, blinking rapidly. "Well, yes. Credits make the, errr, system work," he explained, his fingers fidgeting with a small gear he'd pulled from one of his many pockets. "It's the universal currency now, I'm afraid. Everything from parts to food to information comes with a price tag."

Bobby turned his attention from the incomplete armour to the sleek rifle lying nearby. He picked it up, feeling its weight and balance in his hands. The weapon was unlike anything he'd ever seen before, its design alien.

The rifle's body was a smooth, matte black material that felt cool to the touch. Strange, glowing blue lines ran along its length, pulsing with an inner light. The barrel was long and slender, tapering to a point that looked more like a focused energy emitter than a traditional muzzle.

As Bobby examined the weapon, he noticed there were no visible seams or screws. The entire rifle seemed to be crafted from a single piece of material, its ergonomic shape fitting comfortably in his grip.

"This is incredible," Bobby murmured, marvelling at the alien technology in his hands. He ran his fingers over what appeared to be the trigger mechanism, noting how it seemed to respond to his touch with a soft hum.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Bobby looked up at Mic. "Hey, Mic? Is there any way I can find out more about this rifle? You know, like how the Kra'zak were examining those collars?"

Mic paused in his tinkering with the hover bike and scurried over. "Oh! Yes, yes, of course. There are a few ways. Um, but I don’t have any… you can always buy the skill: Identify, but you’d um, need to find the system shop I spoke about..."

Bobby watched as Mic's eyes lit up with excitement. The gnome reached out, his small hands gesturing towards the rifle.

"Oh, we don't need any fancy scanner or identify skill for this beauty," Mic said, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "It's a neutron blaster, just like you asked for. May I?"

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Bobby nodded, handing the weapon over to Mic. The gnome cradled it with reverence, his fingers dancing over its sleek surface.

"Now, pay attention," Mic instructed, his tone serious. He pointed to a small indentation near the grip. "This here's your trigger. Simple enough, right? But it's pressure sensitive. The harder you squeeze, the more powerful the blast."

Bobby leaned in, fascinated by the alien technology. Mic continued his explanation, indicating various points on the rifle's body.

"These grooves here and here? That's where you can attach modifications. Scopes, stabilisers, energy amplifiers - the works. And this," he tapped a faintly glowing blue strip along the side, "this is your ammo indicator. When it's full, it's a bright blue. As you use it, it'll fade. Once it's clear, you're out of juice."

Mic handed the rifle back to Bobby, who took it with newfound appreciation. The weight felt different now, charged with potential.

"How do you reload it?" Bobby asked, examining the ammo indicator more closely.

Mic grinned, revealing a set of sharp teeth. "Ah, that's the beauty of it. You don't - at least not in the traditional sense. It recharges over time, drawing energy from the ambient environment. System tech, always efficient."

Bobby raised the neutron blaster, feeling its weight settle comfortably in his hands. He sighted down the length of the weapon, marvelling at its sleek design. Curiosity getting the better of him, he squeezed the trigger, just enough to feel the weapon come to life.

A soft hum vibrated through his palms, and the blue lines along the rifle's body pulsed brighter. Bobby felt a slight tingle in his fingers, like static electricity dancing across his skin. He increased the pressure gradually, feeling the weapon's energy build.

Bobby raised an eyebrow, impressed by Mic's detailed knowledge. "You seem to know a lot about this alien tech, Mic. How'd you learn all this?"

Mic's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of green. "Oh, well, um, you see... Before all this happened, I was something of a, uh, collector. Alien artifacts, strange devices, anything unusual really. Spent years studying them, tinkering... It's how I learned to pilot the Starling's Gearshift, actually. Never thought it'd come in handy quite like this, though."

Rem said, cutting through their conversation.

Bobby startled, nearly dropping the rifle. He'd forgotten about Rem in the excitement of their escape and subsequent examination of their new gear.

"Rem! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Bobby winced at the sarcasm dripping from Rem's mental voice. "Look, it wasn't intentional. Things got hectic with the Kra'zak and then the Nex Papilio attack-"

"I said I was sorry," Bobby muttered, feeling a mix of guilt and irritation. "It won't happen again."

Rem replied, his tone softening.

Bobby lowered the neutron blaster, his excitement over the new weapon tempered by the reality of their situation. He turned to Mic.

"You know, I'd hoped for better from those Kra'zak merchants," Bobby said, running a hand through his hair. "But I suppose we can't complain too much. We've got weapons, armour, and a hover bike. It's more than we had before."

"Oh, yes, yes. It's quite a haul, really. Even if some of it needs work."

Bobby nodded, then fixed Mic with a serious gaze. "So, what's the plan now? To rescue your daughter, I mean."

Mic's expression sobered, his usual nervous energy replaced by a determined look. "Well, um, you see, it's not straightforward," he began, fidgeting with a small tool in his hands. "My Sprocket, she's... well, she's being held by a group of raiders. Nasty bunch, they are."

Bobby leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied Mic's nervous expression. "Where are they keeping her?"

Mic sighed, his shoulders slumping as if under an invisible weight. The gnome's usual energetic demeanour seemed to deflate before Bobby's eyes. "Well, they've got a base..." he began, his voice trailing off.

"And?" Bobby prompted, a hint of impatience creeping into his tone. He could sense there was more to the story, and his police instincts were kicking in.

Mic fidgeted with the tool in his hands, avoiding Bobby's gaze. "And a lot of firepower," he admitted.

Bobby's jaw tightened. He'd dealt with well-armed criminals before, but something about Mic's evasiveness set off alarm bells in his head. "Raiders normally do," he said, trying to keep his voice level. "But I feel like there's something you're not telling me?" He left the question hanging in the air, watching Mic's reaction. The gnome's nervous energy seemed to intensify, and Bobby braced himself for whatever revelation was coming.

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant sounds of the ruined city.

Finally, Mic took a deep breath and looked up at Bobby. "They're not just raiders," he whispered. "They're... they're augmented. Cybernetically enhanced."

Bobby felt his stomach drop. "Augmented? Like those Cy-Tek Kra'zak we just dealt with?"

Mic shook his head. "No, no. Not alien tech. It's... it's System tech. They've integrated System upgrades into their bodies. It makes them faster, stronger, more resilient than normal humans."

Bobby ran a hand through his hair, processing this new information. The implications were staggering. If these raiders had harnessed the System's power beyond the usual skill trees and stat increases, they'd be formidable opponents indeed.

"How many are we talking about?" Bobby asked, his mind already racing through potential strategies.

Mic's shoulders slumped further. "At least a dozen, maybe more. And their leader... he's the worst of them all. They call him the Overseer. He's the one who took my Sprocket."

Bobby nodded, understanding now why Mic had been so hesitant to share this information. The task ahead of them seemed even more daunting than before. But as he looked at the array of alien technology they'd acquired and thought about his own growing abilities, a spark of determination ignited within him.

"Alright," Bobby said, his voice firm. "We've got our work cut out for us. But we're not going in unprepared. First things first, we need to get this gear operational and figure out how to use it. Then we'll start planning our approach."

Mic's eyes widened with hope. "You... you still want to help? Even knowing what we're up against?"

Bobby managed a grim smile. "I made a promise, didn't I? Besides, these augmented raiders sound like a threat to everyone, not just your daughter. We can't let them keep operating unchecked. But you’re going to have to help me spend my last few skill points wisely. Something to give me an edge against them, otherwise we won’t stand a chance."

Bobby felt the familiar tingle of his System interface at the edge of his consciousness. He still had three skill points left, a precious resource in this new world. Each point represented a potential edge in combat, a boost to his abilities, or even entirely new skills. He'd been saving them, unsure of what challenges lay ahead, but now it seemed the time had come to make some crucial decisions.

Mic looked up, his face smeared with grease. A spark of excitement lit up his eyes. "Oh! Speaking of skills and preparation, I might have an idea or three."